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Distraction
Charlie looks away from her screen at the rap at her office door, breaks into a grin she hopes isn't too dopey. "May I trouble you for a moment of your time, Mrs Jones?" asks Jackson, leaning on the frame. "That's 'Mrs Darling' to you," Charlie sniffs. "What are you doing here?" "Network's down so the chief gave us the afternoon off." Steps inside. "Thought I'd drop by since this is /'totally' not on my way home." Charlie's eyebrow arches the tiniest bit. Jackson closes the door. "'sides, you gave me a challenge." The lock clicks. "And what would that be?" Charlie leans back, crosses her arms. Jackson strolls past the desk, drops his messenger bag on the floor, lowers the first panel of blinds. "You said my presence at your place of employment wouldn't be distracting." She pivots to watch him. "And how do you plan to change that?" "I have a few ideas." Lowers the other set of blinds. "Do you now." Charlie rises to her feet. Jackson smirks, retrieves a towel from his satchel, steps very, very, /'very' close. Charlie's heart flutters. He wraps his arms around her waist, kisses along her jaw, nips at her throat. She whimpers, feels his pulse jump as she kisses his neck. "Place is a little sparse," he murmurs against her ear. "Desk or rug?" "Both," purrs Charlie, setting to work on his belt. He undoes the buttons of her shirt. "/'Excellent' idea, mon amour." After the floor and a few frightening moments with the swivel chair, Charlie perches on the edge of her desk, fingers caught in Jackson's hair, smothering a squeal with her other hand. Jackson pulls back, pillows his head against her thigh. "Distracting enough for you, Mrs Jones?" he hums. "Think you need to prove this isn't a one-off thing, Mr Darling," she puffs. He snorts. "That can be arranged." He eases Charlie and the towel into his lap. She pools against him, nuzzles his chest. He tucks her under his chin. Charlie's phone buzzes. Jewelz: DEADLINES. Jewelz: STOP WITH THE SMOOCHES. Jackson snickers into her hair. Charlie pointedly returns her phone to her desk and glowers at it. Jackson kisses her crown. "Career people. No time for fun." He heaves a long-suffering sigh. Charlie rolls her eyes, reaches for her panties and trousers. Jackson grins, snags his jumper. "Fix your hair." "Wha—? What's wrong with it?" He peers at his reflection on the computer screen. "It looks," Charlie crowds him against the door, "like someone's been running their hands through it—" She does just that. "—and tugging it 'cause you're not going where they want you to." She does just that, and so does he, so she goes on her toes and kisses him deeply. When they finally break, Jackson says, "I happen to think it's a very nice hairstyle." Charlie does, too, pokes it more or less into shape anyway. "Better?" asks Jackson. "No," Charlie grins, unlocks the door. "Off with you." "Yes, ma'am." Jackson heads out. "Dinner?" "I'll be late." "Good." Category:Ficlet Category:Jackson Category:Charlie Category:Juliet Category:Charlie's workplace